


She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain When She Comes

by ProfessorFlimflam



Category: Holby City
Genre: AU, Berena Secret Santa, Christmas, F/F, Trapped in the snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFlimflam/pseuds/ProfessorFlimflam
Summary: Bernie is relieved to be able to get away from it all at Christmas - away from work, from her unhappy fractured family, and even - perhaps most of all - from Serena. She’s determined to take this time to forget any burgeoning feelings she might have for her friend, and has found the perfect place to do just that. In a lonely cottage high in the Peak District, she clears her mind and heart.A pity fate has other ideas, then, hey?
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 53
Kudos: 215
Collections: Berena Secret Santa 2019





	1. She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ktlsyrtis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/gifts).



> A seasonal gift for the wonderful @ktlsyrtis - Happy Christmas!

It had been dry but overcast when she had driven up here two days ago, but over the last twenty four hours, a cold front had swept in from the east, bringing cold winds and snow with it. It had felt isolated before: now, Bernie felt that she could be the only person in the world, and it suited her perfectly. 

She stood outside the little cottage and gazed over the valley below and the peaks that went on as far as she could see, shrouded already in a thick white blanket. She could make out one or two vehicles bravely making their way through the drifts in the valley, and spared a thought for the drivers: she hoped they were locals on their way home, for it didn’t seem likely that anyone would be getting very far today. She, on the other hand, had come further than she had thought possible.

A year of life-changing upsets was coming to an end - she tried not to think _a bitter end_ \- and she would be glad beyond measure to see the back of it. Only a year ago, she had been in Helmand, doing unspeakably hard work and having the time of her life. She was a surgeon at the peak of her powers in a role that made her feel worthwhile and complete. She admired and respected her team, and they adored her with a fervour that she found as touching as it was laughable.

At New Year, she realised that the hero worship had turned into something else for one of her crew. Captain Alex Dawson had quickly become a close friend and confidante when she had been assigned to Bernie’s team that autumn, and as the year turned, she had hugged Bernie, wished her a happy new year and impulsively kissed her, full and boldly on the mouth. Bernie had been shocked, not so much by the kiss as by her own reaction to it, which was visceral and overpowering. She had scarce taken a breath before she leaned back in to return the kiss with something that felt like anger, felt like fear - felt like _life_.

For six weeks, they lived in a fervid whirl of blood and sand by day, secrecy and passion by night. The intensity of the affair drove everything else from their minds - regulations, marriage vows, the need for sleep - and it was perhaps this last was to blame for her being here now. She would always wonder if Alex had been less sharp than usual on that drive out to the valley, and whether, had she been better rested, she might have noticed the glint of metal under the rocks at the edge of the road. It hardly mattered now - whether exhaustion played into it or not, the jeep had been overturned by the blast of the IED and she had been flung across the road: she had known little more until she was already airborne and on her way back to the UK.

Change had followed change had followed change. She was invalided out of the Army, at least for now; she might have contracted TB (she hadn’t); her husband pleaded with her to stay home for good this time. She had always known that her profession was a dangerous one and accepted hardship and injury without complaint, but the realisation of how difficult it had been for Marcus and the children hit her hard, and she put thoughts of Alex behind her. Her first civilian role had been like a new pair of boots: perfectly serviceable, with a few sore spots while they broke each other in, but then Alex herself had turned up in Holby, and the blast radius this time caught more than just the two of them. By the summer, her marriage was over, she was out of her home, her children had turned against her and she was almost entirely friendless.

She pulled her scarf closer around her neck against the chilly draught and wished for the thousandth time that year that she hadn’t given up smoking. It was cold enough to hurt her lungs, but she loved the clearness of the air up here, and somehow the chill wind felt as though it was blowing all the jagged memories and thoughts from her frazzled mind. She smiled as she reminded herself that she was no longer friendless, at any rate. The ragtag bunch of comrades on Keller ward welcomed her forthrightness once she and Ric Griffin had got the measure of each other, and it hadn’t been long before the little family of staff on AAU had drawn her in and made her one of their own.

All at once, she had had enough of the cold, and she retraced her steps through the snow to the door of the cabin. The warmth embraced her as she closed the door behind her, and leaving her boots on the mat, she put the kettle on for a pot of coffee. She enjoyed the sensation of warm blood returning to her fingertips as she went about the ritual of measuring the coffee, pouring the water, settling the plunger in the top of the cafetière. She cupped her hands around the pot as she waited for it to brew.

She really had fallen on her feet in AAU, she knew that. A team without internal rivalries, no duds among them, and above all, a clinical lead who knew her stuff _and_ her staff, and who cared about both. She could see that it was entirely down to Serena that the ward ran as well as it did, and she had Serena to thank for her own specialised corner of the ward, too. God, she had _so_ much to thank her for, and the trauma bay was barely the half of it. Initially bruised by Bernie’s reticence with the more complicated details of her personal life, Serena had rallied when Bernie had most been in need of a friend, and they had not looked back since. 

Indeed, in spite of her better self, Bernie (god help her) had not been able to help herself from looking forward to what might be. It was Cameron, her wayward son, who first put the notion into her head ( _who first noticed what was already there_ , her conscience whispered) and pointed out that Bernie looked at Serena the way she once looked at Alex. She had scoffed and told him to put that nonsense right out of his head, but she was horrified to discover that he was right. There was so much to admire about Serena, and it wasn’t just her abilities with a scalpel or a spreadsheet that impressed Bernie. Serena’s warmth and wit were irresistible, and while Alex had the benefits of youth, Serena held all the considerable allure that a life well lived could confer on a confident woman. She was a naturally beautiful woman, and flirting come as easily to her as breathing came to Bernie. But not only was she straight, she had also been in an on-off relationship with a dull but respectable copper for most of the time they had known each other. That seemed to be well and truly over now, but it left Bernie in no doubt that feeling the way she felt about Serena was a sure route to frustration and disappointment.

When she had been lucky enough to draw the long straw with holiday leave over Christmas, she had decided to spend the time on her own, as far away from her unhappy family as she could, as well as away from Serena. A few days of solitude might help provide some clarity, and she would return to work refreshed and resolved to return Serena to arm’s length - a good friend, and nothing more. This lonely cottage, high in the Peaks, was just the place to reset her muddled heart and mind. 

She poured her coffee and took a warming sip. Yes, this lonely retreat was just what she needed.

***

A little sporty number was all very well for the streets of Holby, but it really wasn’t made for axle-deep snow on uncleared roads - hilly ones, at that. She would have to stop at the next place she found and beg for shelter overnight. Peering through the snow that had started to fall again, she thought she could make out a light in the distance. She sat up a little straighter and tried to shake off the weariness of the long drive. Who knew how hospitable these hill farmers might be? But she was confident that she could muster enough charm to secure a bed for the night, or her name wasn’t Serena Wendy Campbell.


	2. She’ll Be Driving Six White Horses

It had been a good clear run up as far as Stafford, and had she followed her intended route, Serena felt certain that she would have been in Leeds ages ago. But on hearing that her mother was planning to take the M6 up to Manchester and then head across to Yorkshire, Elinor had scoffed.

“Oh my god, Mum, the motorway’s for mugs - Martin says only absolute drones use it. He knows a really good shortcut - listen, write this down...”

 _Why on earth did I listen to her?_ Serena asked herself with a scowl. She had been on the same tiny, winding B road for miles and hours now, and the snow that had kicked in almost the moment she hit Blackshaw Moor had thickened from a light dusting of sparkling motes to a swirling flurry that settled and drifted across the road, affecting visibility until she felt she was peering into a snow globe.

Of course, she knew why she’d taken Elinor’s advice, even though she would much have preferred to take the motorway. Her daughter had only just calmed down after finding out somewhat belatedly that Serena had relinquished the deputy CEO role: Elinor had been planning to film a day-in-the-life style documentary for her final year project, and was taking Serena’s connections rather for granted. It wouldn’t make any practical difference, as Serena had pointed out: there were policies in place about filming in the hospital, and as long as Ellie worked within those limitations, it wouldn’t matter _who_ her mother was, but it had been the principle of the thing that had annoyed the girl: why had she been the last to know - again? As a matter of fact, Serena _had_ told her at the time, but she wasn’t the most attentive of listeners, and it was only now that it bore direct relevance to herself that she showed any interest - and there was nothing Elinor enjoyed more than feeling wronged, so of course there had been heated words and dramatic flouncing.

It had only been in the last few days that Elinor had showed any sign of softening, and Serena knew that the advice about her route, however ungraciously delivered, was in fact a peace offering of a kind. She had thanked Elinor and made enthusiastic noises about the drive through the Peaks, but she was cursing herself for taking it now. Why hadn’t she taken the tried and tested route and just bluffed it at the other end? Well, the damage was done now. She certainly wouldn’t be getting to Leeds tonight, and from the way the snow was settling in, she would be lucky if she got there at all.

She leaned even further forwards, as though it could make a difference to visibility. She was sure she had seen a light half an hour ago, but the road was so winding that she had no idea if she had already passed it. There had been no turn offs, but who knew whether the house was even on this road. She wasn’t one to panic, but she was starting to worry that she wouldn’t find anywhere to stop before the daylight went completely. She was finding it harder and harder to judge where the edge of the road was, and the snow was dazzlingly bright - or at least it had been until the light started fading.

***

Bernie stretched, catlike, and curled her feet up under the fleecy blanket, pulling it a little closer around her. She glanced at the log burner: it was crackling away nicely - no need to feed it yet. She leaned over and turned on the reading lamp, and opening a paperback, she sighed happily as she found her place and picked up where she had left it this morning. But before long, the heavy book fell from her fingers and she dozed off. When she woke an hour or so later, she felt a dream slipping away from her - something about home, something about warmth, touch. She had been holding someone’s hand, she thought. She let the memory go resisting the urge to examine it too closely, just the feeling of comfort remaining, and she smiled contentedly.

She spent a few minutes just gazing into the fire in the little black stove, absorbing its warmth with a sense of animal languor. This really was the life, she thought. She picked up her book again and this time she stayed awake, losing herself not in sleep but in the pages of an historical novel she had found on the bookshelf: something she would never have chosen for herself, but which she was quite enjoying nevertheless. The wind in the eaves became the wind in the rigging: the creaking of the old cottage, the roof timbers of a mighty cathedral. She read as she had not read for years, without distraction and uncritically, for no nobler purpose than her own entertainment. She wriggled even further into the corner of the sofa with a happy smile.

***

Just as she was starting to think she would have to pull over, Serena caught sight of the light again, much nearer now. Only a hundred yards further, she found the turning that must lead up to the farm, or whatever it was, and she swung in gratefully to the little lane. It ran along between high hedges, which had provided some shelter, and while the snow had settled here, it was nowhere near as deep, and she felt herself relaxing a little. Now she had only to persuade the occupants to provide some hospitality, which she was sure would be forthcoming, though she felt a qualm of doubt when she considered who might actually choose to live up here in this godforsaken spot.

***

Bernie looked out of the little kitchen window as she rinsed her coffee mug. If she leaned right against the glass and peered, she could see the fat flakes of snow coming down thick and fast now, but that was about it. Putting the mug on the draining board, she did the rounds of the little cottage and pulled the thick curtains closed, tucking them behind the radiators to preserve as much warmth as possible. In the living space, she put a couple more logs on the burner, watching as the bark smoked, curled and eventually caught, the flames licking along the edges. The place was as shipshape as she could make it, and she poured herself a glass of wine. This really was bliss - all the time in the world to think, and all the space on the hills to stretch her legs, test her lungs and exhaust her body, then this cosy little nest to retire to to rest, read, and sleep. After a lifetime of halls and hospitals, barracks and mess tents, this solitude was exactly what she needed.

***

Serena sighed in relief as she drew up outside the little cottage, and she could feel the tension fall away from her like a discarded theatre gown. It looked as solid as the hill it was planted on, thick stone walls that had stood there for centuries. It would do very nicely tonight, though she had a horrible feeling that the interior, and indeed, the inhabitant, might be as ancient as the exterior. Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she would take whatever shelter was offered.

She climbed stiffly out of the car and stumbled a little through the undisturbed snow to the door and lifted the heavy iron knocker, letting it drop against the wood. She listened carefully, but couldn’t hear any movement within. She knocked again, twice this time, and as the door opened, she stepped forward into the pool of light.

“I’m so sorry to trouble you, only I seem to have got myself into a spot of bother, and I wondered if you could possibly put me up for the -”

The occupant of the cottage spoke at exactly the same moment, and there was a little tangle of confusion as she apologised for not having got to the door more quickly, “only I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up here, so I -”

“Bernie?”

“ _Serena?_ What on earth?”


	3. We’ll All Go Out To Meet Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to know who is more surprised, Bernie or Serena - but the snow is blowing in through that open door, so Bernie invites Serena in and together they make the best of an unexpected meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s May the first and I thought it was about time I updated this Christmas tale ;-) 
> 
> Seeing Bernie and Serena in involuntary lockdown kind of fits the moment...

Bernie stood speechless in the doorway, slack-jawed at the sight of Serena bundled up in her bright red coat and what looked like every scarf she owned, with her oversized fur hat pulled down almost until it covered her eyes. Of all the people to turn up here at dusk, miles from Holby... 

But the wind was biting, and bringing flurries of snow in through the door, and she was not wrapped up like Serena, and she quickly recovered herself.

“My goodness, you’d better come in. That’s it, just leave your shoes there if you - oh, let me take your coat.” She busied herself helping Serena get rid of a few layers, and her confusion subsided a little. 

“That’s better. Come on in and tell me what on earth you’re doing here?”

Serena took her hat off and ran a hand through her hair. “I was going to ask you the same thing! You could knock me down with a feather - I thought you’d be some gnarled old farmer I’d have to sweet-talk into helping me. I’m supposedly on my way to Leeds to stop with Elinor at her boyfriend’s folk’s house for Christmas, but this is as far as I got - I should have taken the motorway, but, well, here I am. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see a light up ahead - I couldn’t get a signal on my phone and I had a horrible premonition that I’d end up sleeping in the car and be dug out in February, frozen solid like those chaps they chip out of glaciers. So you can imagine, I - what? Why are you laughing at me?”

“It’s all right, Serena, you can breathe now. Just - slow down and relax a bit. Do you want me to bring your things in from the car? I take it you’re not planning on pressing any further tonight.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll go, let me just -” but Serena found that now she had sat down in a comfortable chair, her legs just didn’t want to perform their normal function, and she ended up handing her keys to Bernie, describing which of the many bags to bring in.

“Oh - and if you find one that clinks, you might as well bring that in as well,” she called after her.

Bernie came back in with Serena’s weekend bag, and a jute bag that did indeed clink very promisingly.

“That’s the fella!” Serena cried. “There’s a bottle of fizz in there if you want to put it in the fridge, and some shiraz that ought to go somewhere near that wonderful log burner before we go anywhere near them.”

Bernie shook her head in mock disapproval but followed the instructions to the letter. “Just the essentials, then? Are you sure six bottles is enough for the night?”

Serena threw a cushion at her. “They’re not all for consumption tonight, you beast - it’s about treating the wine with respect, that’s all. I don’t want to turn up to my potential son-in-law’s family with a shiraz slush puppy. We might tackle _one_ of them though, what do you think?”

Tossing the cushion back, Bernie opened a cupboard and took out a wine glass, bringing it over with her own, and the bottle that she already had open. “I can do better than that. This is already at room temperature and should meet with your approval, I think.” She held up the bottle for Serena to inspect.

“Aha! You’ve learned from the best, I see - it’s almost as though you’ve been expecting me. Mm, thank you - gosh, that hits the spot.” She closed her eyes, savouring the rich wine, which was indeed one of her favourites. “Oh! That’s so much better. Bless you for being here, Bernie - you really do always have my back, don’t you?” She looked around properly for the first time, and liked what she saw very much.

“What a gorgeous little place!” she exclaimed. “When you said you’d booked an Airbnb I thought you meant a city break, or a little place at the bottom of someone’s garden, but this is something else, isn’t it? Where are you going for Christmas Day itself? I’m sure you told me, but I’ve had a brain like a sieve in the run up to Christmas.”

Bernie took a mouthful of wine and braced herself for the pity that she was certain was about to be unleashed on her.

“I’m not going anywhere - this is it. This my Christmas present to myself - a week on my own away from work, kids, Marcus - all of it.” Serena looked at her without comment, encouraging her to go on. “My flat doesn’t really feel like home yet, and I thought if I stayed at home I’d just end up going in to work to escape having to unpack and decorate and so on, so this was my solution. A week of walking, running, reading, sleeping... though it looks as thought it might be mainly reading and sleeping for a day or two with all this snow,” she amended.

Far from extending the pity Bernie had been dreading, Serena raised her glass and waved it at her. “You, Bernie Wolfe, are a very wise woman. I wish I’d had the sense to do the same. Instead, I’m driving half way up the country to spend Christmas with people I don’t know, and a daughter who might at any given moment start acting as though she doesn’t know me either. I’m tempted to stay here instead,” she joked, “though I am sorry to have scuppered your plans for solitude. You’ve come here to get away from work, and it only turns up on your doorstep!”

A particularly strong gust of wind whistled around the eaves, and Bernie looked at her kindly. “Well, you’ll definitely be staying put for at least one night, maybe longer if this keeps up, so you might get your wish. And I don’t mind at all - you’re not just a colleague, you know that.” 

She stood and busied herself at the sink again, though there was nothing to tidy. “I don’t suppose you’ve eaten yet this evening, have you? I made a stew yesterday, and there’s plenty left.”

Serena had not eaten since a brief stop for a sandwich at some drab, nondescript services on the M5, and once Bernie had heated it up and served them a healthy portion each, she fell on the stew like a woman starved.

“This is good!” She exclaimed through a mouthful of piping hot beef casserole and buttery mash. “You told me once you weren’t the Maria Von Trapp kind of woman, but I beg to differ.”

“I’m pretty sure Captain Von Trapp had his own cook - I don’t suppose Maria ever had to lift a finger in the kitchen,” Bernie said. “Anyway, I never said I couldn’t cook - just that I wasn’t quite Julie Andrews when it came to the good little wife and mother stuff. Hence Christmas on my own, I suppose.” She shrugged, but she was laughing, and there was no self pity in her words.

“Well, Captain Von Trapp’s loss is my gain,” Serena said, reaching for seconds. She was even happier when Bernie took a couple of treacle puddings out of the fridge and stuck them in the microwave.

“Not homemade, I’m afraid, but good rib-sticking stuff. I’ve had a real hankering for comfort food lately. Custard?”

A long, difficult drive, a belly full of hot food and rather more than half a bottle of good red wine - they had indeed broached one of Serena’s bottles - took its inevitable toll, and once they had washed up and got settled back in the living area, Serena’s head started to nod. Bernie nudged her foot.

“Come on, sleepy head - looks like time for bed. Did you manage to get through to Elinor?”

Serena looked at her phone and tutted. “ _Message undelivered_. Oh, bother. Can’t be helped I suppose, but I hate to think of her worrying about me - or at least, getting all irritated with me for letting her down. Oh, well. I’ll try again once I’m on the road tomorrow.”

Knowing all too well the strained nature of the mother-daughter relationship, Bernie grimaced in sympathy.

“What network are you with? I’ve found that if I go up to the top of the hill I can usually get a signal, though I don’t know what effect the snow will have on reception.”

But Serena shuddered, and huddled down in the armchair like a hibernating creature. “Go out there in this weather? You can’t be serious!” But she knew that she really should make every effort to get word to her daughter, and ever so reluctantly she levered herself out of the chair.

Taking pity on her, Bernie held out her hand. “Tell you what - you write the text and I’ll trot up to the top and see if it will send. I’ve got all the gear - I doubt that lovely coat of yours is built to withstand this sort of weather. And I wouldn’t mind having a look at the view tonight - I haven’t seen snow like this for years.”

Serena made feeble noises of resistance, but knowing a good thing when it was offered to her on a plate, she tapped out a brief apologetic message to Elinor, promising to update her in the morning, and by the time she was ready, Bernie had got her boots laced up and was swathed in several layers of technical looking gear. She told Bernie the passcode for her phone, and assuaged her guilt at sending her out into the snow by reminding herself that Bernie was a woman of action, unlike herself: this was probably some sort of weird, masochistic treat for her.

Her guilt swirled back in through the door with the snow as Bernie opened it and headed out with a cheery wave, but she shook it off, and once she had dried up the things that they had left to drain, she went in search of a bedroom. 

Upstairs was little more than a mezzanine floor, she discovered, and as she had suspected, there was just the one bed up there, a luxurious king sized thing with an invitingly plump duvet. She could see where a dividing wall had been removed to make this space: evidently there had once been two rooms up here, but at some point they had been knocked through into one much more comfortable space. She looked at the bed: she didn’t know how she felt about sharing a bed with Bernie - or rather, how Bernie would feel about sharing with her: after all, she had come here to be alone, and she could hardly be expected to share her bed with someone from work who had turned up uninvited.

She went back downstairs, and when Bernie returned, it was to the sight of Serena reaching a hand down the back of the sofa.

“What have you lost?” she asked, stamping the snow from her boots and hanging up her topmost coat. She handed the phone back to Serena. “It took a couple of attempts, but it sent in the end. There’s a reply as well - came through pretty much straight away.”

Elinor had been surprisingly relieved to hear from her mother, and Serena was actually quite touched by the message. She thanked Bernie profusely for her efforts, and explained that she was trying to set up the sofa bed, but that she couldn’t quite work out how it unfolded.

Bernie had been trying not to think about this part of the evening, but she braced herself. “Oh, it’s not a sofa bed, that’s why. They only let the place out to couples - or solo travellers. I’m afraid you’ll have to bunk up with me tonight.”

***

Bernie carried on unwinding scarves and unzipping base layers, hanging each one up by the door as she discarded it.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly take your bed - I’ll just sleep on the sofa. I’m sure if I curl up it will be comfy enough,” Serena protested, but Bernie pointed out a rather more pressing issue - there was no other bedding available.

“I’ve been feeling the cold at night, so I’ve already doubled up with the spare duvet. And you wouldn’t be _taking_ the bed, we’d be sharing it. Honestly, I don’t mind, Serena, and it’s a big bed, there’s plenty of room - no need to for us to disturb each other.”

“Well, if you’re sure, but I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Serena replied. “I was thinking I’d hit the hay now, as a matter of fact. I suppose at least this way I can go to sleep without you feeling you have to go to bed before you’re ready. I expect I’ll be out like a light the moment my head hits the pillow, so you needn’t worry about disturbing me when you come to bed.”

Thankfully she had brought a decent pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown with her, not knowing what the set up at Martin’s house would be like, and she headed to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed. Bernie headed up stairs to make sure things were tidy and decent for Serena, not knowing that she had already inspected the accommodation. Thankfully she was neater at home than she was in the office, and once she was satisfied, she went back downstairs, where Serena was just emerging from the bathroom.

She was the very picture of domestic comfort, Bernie thought. A dark wine-red dressing down wrapped over soft, warm looking cotton pyjamas, and her face was fresh where she had cleaned away what little makeup she had been wearing, along with the weary film of travel. Bernie wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Serena without lipstick before: she looked younger, softer. She looked, quite frankly, adorable. A wave of pure affection washed over her, sitting comfortably alongside the other, deeper feelings she harboured for Serena, and she smiled at her.

“You look cosy. It’s all ready for you - help yourself. I thought I might read for a while first - you don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not, Bernie, just pretend I’m not here. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning and you can get back to your blessed solitude, you lucky thing. Look,” she said, laying a hand on Bernie’s arm. “If I haven’t said it already, thank you so much for all of this. You’ve been a real life saver - I don’t know what I’d have done without you. Always here when I need you, aren’t you?”

It had been pure happenstance, as they both knew, but they both knew the truth of Serena’s statement, and Bernie smiled warmly at her. “Always,” she said. “Go on, get yourself to bed - I’ll be up in a bit. Goodnight, Serena.”

***

Bernie had turned down the corner of the duvet to show Serena which side she should sleep on, and there was a glass of water on the night stand which she knew hadn’t been there before. It was a thoughtful touch, and Serena smiled. She slipped under the covers and pulled them up around her chin, Oh, it was so comfortable! The mattress was just firm enough without being too hard, and the duvet cover was of a soft brushed cotton. It was such a cosy room, and such a perfect bed, and it smelled so nice, of fresh linen and a scent she recognised but couldn’t place - it was something comforting, though, something that made her feel safe. Just as she had predicted, within moments her eyes had slipped shut, and she fell straight to sleep, the smile still on her lips.


	4. She’ll Be Wearing Pink Pyjamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena may be happily snuggled up in bed - but how will Bernie cope with joining her? There doesn’t seem to be much of an alternative, and after all, it’s only for one night. But the morning brings more than one spanner in the works.

Bernie sat in the chair she had adopted as her own, her feet curled up under her. The log burner was glowing warmly and she had poured herself a whisky, though she knew that a hot drink would be more warming. She had been glad to get out of the cottage for a few minutes earlier, on her errand to get Serena’s message to Elinor. Of course, she had been happy to help out, and she was much better suited to tramping up the hill than Serena was, but it had been a welcome chance to escape the sudden claustrophobia she had felt. That wasn’t quite the right word, though. It wasn’t that the space had become small or crowded: it was more that she felt vulnerable, exposed with Serena so close to her in the cottage.

As soon as she had registered that it was Serena on her doorstep, she had realised that it would end up with her staying the night, and her mind had raced through every option to avoid sharing the bed, but she knew it was no good.

She sighed. She had come here specifically to be able to think about her feelings for Serena without the possibility of running into her - but of all the stone cottages in all the world, Serena had walked into hers. There really was no escaping the woman.

All evening, she had enjoyed the cosy domesticity of looking after Serena: of cooking for her, of making sure her message got sent - she had even enjoyed fetching and carrying for her when she had been too tired to go back out to the car. There was no-one she could imagine sharing this little space with so easily, chatting over a glass of wine or three, washing up together, slumping by the fire. But sharing a bed with her? That was a different matter entirely. She briefly considered spending the night on the sofa after all, but she knew it was a non-starter. A snug little two-seater, it wouldn’t accommodate her no matter how much she curled up, and she had been too cold with just one duvet - every duvet and blanket in the place was upstairs, on her bed. In which Serena was now sleeping.

She closed her eyes tightly, willing something to change: another bed to materialise, or for a helicopter to arrive to whisk Serena off to Leeds, or for her own stupid, unrequited, unrequitable feelings for Serena to dissipate. But when she opened them again, there she still was, in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, with Serena upstairs in her bed, and very much in her thoughts.

“Damn it, Cameron,” she muttered under her breath, “why couldn’t you have kept your big mouth shut?” For it wasn’t until he had pointed it out that she had realised how she had been starting to feel about Serena, and without his interference, perhaps she would have been able to sublimate it entirely. But once the cat was out of the bag, there was no getting the damn thing back in, and since then, every interaction they had shared. had been been interpreted through this new lens of unwelcome clarity. 

She had tried to protect her heart from hoping , but she just couldn’t help herself. Every little gesture, every little private joke they shared found her leaning in and grasping at it to wring every drop of meaning from it. Serena flirted with everybody, but was there something different about the way she was with Bernie? Serena always made a point of sitting next to her at Albie’s - was that what straight friends did? She didn’t know. All those moments in theatre, so intense yet so calm: was that just a good professional fit, or was there more to their chemistry? As a doctor, a surgeon, an officer, Bernie was rightly proud of her capacity for quick, decisive action, her thought processes clear and insightful. But when it came to working out how to frame her friendship - she didn’t dare think _relationship_ \- with Serena, Bernie Wolfe was the queen of overthinking.

That was why coming here had been so beneficial. Her plan to wear herself out walking the Peaks, to eat well, sleep well and to lose herself in the other worlds afforded by the well stocked bookshelf was paying dividends. She found she had the mental and emotional distance to let her subconscious process some of these confusing thoughts and feelings without her needing to engage in them, but Serena’s sudden arrival, blowing in with the blizzard, had knocked all that for six.

She put her glass down and picked up her book. Perhaps she could lose herself for a little while again. She returned to the heroine dressed as a boy, the hero disguised as a beggar, the misunderstandings and subterfuge and drama, and before long she was drawn in again. When she realised that she had read the same page three times without taking in a word, though, she knew it was time to give up, and she reluctantly slipped a bookmark between the pages. She had brought her pyjamas downstairs earlier, and she got changed and ready for bed quickly. She headed upstairs silently, but she needn’t have worried. Serena was sound asleep, little more than her hair sticking up from the cocoon of duvet she had drawn around herself. Bernie climbed carefully into bed and smiled at her. 

_Impossible woman._

She leaned over and turned out the light that Serena had left switched on for her and snuggled down, a safe distance from the other woman.

Serena stirred in her sleep, and drifted vaguely to the surface. There was that scent again, stronger now, closer. Nice.

“Bernie?” she murmured.

“Shh, yes, it’s just me. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm. Mmf. You’re more than just a colleague to me, too.”

Serena turned over and drifted back down into slumber, still mumbling. She would not even remember later that she had woken.

Bernie, on the other hand, lay wide awake, stiff as a board, eyes wide open in the dark. It was gong to be a long night.

***

Serena woke at around eight the next morning, and it took her a while to remember where she was. The light was different from that in her own room, and the scent that had made her feel so content last night was stronger than ever. The duvet was softer and warmer than her own against her neck where it was drawn up close, and something was tickling her nose. She opened her eyes.

She shut them again very quickly.

The scent was Bernie. More specifically, it was Bernie’s hair, which was tickling her nose - but only because at some point in the night, Serena had rolled all the way over to the other side of the bed, and had rested her head on Bernie’s shoulder, slipped her arm around Bernie’s waist. Now that she was getting her bearings, she realised that Bernie’s arm was around her shoulder, and her knee - 

_Oh, crikey._

She thought back to the night before: the journey, the last few horrible miles when she thought she wasn’t going to find any shelter, and then, miraculously, wonderfully, there had been a light that drew her not just to shelter, not just to safety, but to Bernie Wolfe, of all people. It had been such a shock to see the door opened, not by a surly extra from _All Creatures Great And Small_ , but by Bernie - but at the exact same moment, her brain had supplied the phrases, _oh, thank god!_ and inexplicably, _oh, of course!_

But was it really inexplicable? Was it, perhaps, related to the way she had been unable to stop herself teasing, flirting with the woman lately? Something to do with the way they looked at each other in theatre over those not-quite-all-concealing masks? Did it have anything to do with the reason she had started looking eagerly for signs of Bernie’s approval and pleasure when she brought her a hot coffee, a warm pastry, an interesting case - and thinking of her grumpily as _Berenice Bloody Wolfe_ whenever she - selfishly - wasn’t there to be impressed?

Her eyes were already shut, but she squeezed them tighter as all of these thoughts came into focus to create a single thought, bound up neatly and tied in a bow by tendrils of the ridiculously messy blonde curls currently tickling her nose.

Oh god. How utterly mortifying. Bernie would be so embarrassed about this when she woke. Or was she awake already? Serena listened to the stead. y breathing beside her, allowed herself to listen to what her hand was telling her - the hand resting - oh, help! - on Bernie’s abdomen - which was that Bernie was - thank goodness - totally relaxed and still asleep. She had time to extricate herself from the embrace, and to try and untangle her own thoughts, which had taken her quite by surprise, but which were quite stubbornly refusing to back down. 

Right. Move. Yes. Just - in a minute. Because actually, this was very, very nice indeed - and who knew when this opportunity would arise again? Well, it wouldn’t. So. Good. Just a minute longer. Just five minutes more, perhaps. Just - 

zzz

Bernie woke up to the absolute certainty that everything in the world was exactly as it should be - and also that something was very, very wrong. That was odd, holding those two very different notions in her mind at the same time. Holding... holding...

Ah.

She was holding Serena in her arms, in her bed. This explained everything, she thought, rolling her eyes. A quick survey of the field showed that she was practically clinging to the edge of the mattress on her own side, and she surmised that Serena had rolled over at some point in the night and - well, this had happened. She let her heart rate slow down to a mere gallop, and thought carefully. 

This was fine. Absolutely no problem whatsoever. It was clearly Serena who had initiated this in her sleep: it was a simple accident - quite funny, really, they would probably laugh about this later - so there was no need to panic. Really, no need at all. Yes, obviously, she was panicking, but there was no need for it. And definitely no need to get up, get dressed and run for miles, which actually seemed like quite an enticing proposition right now. But of course, that would wake Serena up, which would obviously be bad.

She allowed herself just to feel for a moment. _Damn_ , this felt nice. Damn, damn, damn. She relaxed her muscles as much as she could and let the soft, warm mass of Serena’s body sink against her own. But it was too much for her, and not enough, and all wrong, and she held her breath as she slowly, slowly eased herself from underneath the delicious weight of the sleeping woman. She stole softly downstairs, leaving Serena to wake up in her own time.

***

Bernie was already up and dressed and making breakfast when Serena came downstairs.

“Morning!” she said, rather too brightly, and Bernie jumped. 

“Good morning to you too - sleep well?” she asked as innocently as she could manage.

“Oh, yes - like a log. I must have dropped straight off last night, and I’ve only just woken up, just now. Just this minute, in fact.”

“Good, good. That’s - good. I’m glad. Me too. Slept well, I mean. Not that I’ve just woken up.”

“No! No, of course, that would be... ha! No. Oh good, is that coffee?”

Bernie handed her a mug and she filled it from the pot. She took a long sip, as much to obscure her face as anything, because Bernie _knew_ , she was sure of it. She was being all weird and twitchy and trying too hard. She must have been awake after all. How embarrassing it all was - the only thing worse than their stilted unnatural conversation was this awkward silence - and then of course they both spoke at the same time.

“Well, I’d better think about heading off, I suppose.”  
“I’m afraid it doesn’t look as though you’ll be going anywhere today.”

They looked at each other wide eyed, and Bernie turned wordlessly to the window. Serena followed her gaze, and it took her a moment to register what she as seeing, which was basically nothing. Where she had expected to see her car parked out in front of the cottage was a smoothly contoured mound of pristine white snow, which sloped down to just below the windowsill. 

“We’re snowed in,” she said stupidly.


	5. Singing Aye Aye Yippee!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firelight, wine and warmth in the midst of a snowstorm send Serena and Bernie to sleep. When they wake, it is to find that life can feel wonderfully like a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a fic that takes place over 24 hours, this has taken a long time to write! Apologies to anyone who was holding out for the M rating - in the end it just wanted to be soft, and I have changed the relating accordingly.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it :-)

“We’re snowed in,” Serena said stupidly.

“We’re well and truly snowed in,” Bernie confirmed.

Serena looked outside again with something akin to despair. “We’re well and truly, royally snowed in. Oh, Bernie, I’m so sorry. I’ve crashed your little hermitage - I’d leave you to it if I could, but it looks as though we’re stuck with each other, doesn’t it?”

Bernie, who had already had an hour or so to get her head around this undeniable fact, finally relaxed enough to laugh.

“We are - but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with,” she said. “It could be much worse. Just think if it had been Ric, pacing about like a caged lion.”

“Oh god, I love him dearly, but I wouldn’t want to be cooped up with him like this. Oh - oh - what about Jac Naylor? Can you imagine?”

“Okay, okay - hear me out here - would you rather share a bed with Ric or Jac?”

Serena gasped at the thought. “Oh, god, don’t make me choose. Ric. No, Jac. Ric. Blow it, I’d take the sofa after all. Your turn. Would you rather share a bed with... Ollie Valentine or Guy Self?”

Bernie threw a tea towel at her. “Not fair! I gave you a reasonable choice. I’d rather sleep in your car. Your go: Raf or Fletch?”

“That’s an easy one - Raf. He’s like a little brother to me. Fletch is lovely, but he’d make a big song and dance about it. Yours - Morven or Jasmine?”

“Oh, bless them. One under each wing, like a mother hen. Mo or Derwood?”

“Oh, Mo, every time,” Serena said without hesitation. “Mr T would apologise every time he accidentally touched your foot or broke wind.”

The tension that had stretched out between them had been well and truly released now, and they laughed until tears ran down Serena’s cheeks.

“Well, I think we both got off pretty lightly, all things considered,” Serena said. “Listen, I need to apologise - I hope I didn’t disturb you in the night, but when I woke up this morning I was all snuggled up to you. I must have been looking for some extra warmth in the night, and I’m afraid I sort of latched onto you like a limpet. I’ll try not to do it tonight.”

Bernie coloured a little but braved it out. “No, you didn’t wake me up,” she said. “I think you sort of chased me across the bed, that’s all - I was clinging on the edge of the mattress for dear life when I woke up.” It wasn’t much of even a white lie, she thought.

Serena looked relieved. “Good - I’m glad it didn’t bother you. I won’t be offended if you put a bolster down the middle of the bed tonight.”

And just like that, the tension was gone. Breakfast turned into elevenses, and selecting a book from the little shelf, Serena joined Bernie in front of the log burner and they sat reading in companionable silence. The crackle of burning logs, the soft rustling of turning of pages, and the occasional chuckle or sigh were the only sounds that broke the stillness, and now again they caught each other’s eye and smiled before re-immersing themselves in their reading. 

When by unspoken mutual agreement lunchtime rolled around, Bernie put a pot of soup on to warm up while Serena cut thick slices of bread to dunk in it.

“My mother would be horrified,” she said. “Dipping bread in your soup was paramount to eating from a trough in her view, but if there’s anything more comforting in this sort of weather, I don’t know what it is.” 

“Such a rebel, Ms Campbell. Why not go the whole hog and put your elbows on the table too?” Bernie led by example, and slurped soup from her spoon with exaggerated defiance. Serena laughed.

“Oh, she’d have disapproved of you, alright - such a bad influence on me! Which of course is why I like you so much.”

“Me a bad influence on you? I’d say it was the other way round! Which one of us it that brings in pastries every other day? That doesn’t know how to order by the glass? That - come to think of it - keeps a bottle in the drawer of her desk?”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from someone who carries a cancer stick with her everywhere she goes!”

“Aha!” cried Bernie, “but I don’t smoke it, do I? That’s the difference between you and me - I actually know a thing or two about restraint.”

“I bet you do,” Serena replied with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Shaking her head and laughing, Bernie said “How did we get onto this? I thought we were taking the mickey out of your mother, not me!”

Serena squinted at the ceiling, a finger on her chin in a mock attempt to recall the conversation. “I _think_ I was trying to pay you a compliment, but it went a bit wrong somewhere. I think we’re an excellent influence on each other, don’t you?”

“We certainly work well together - I wouldn’t let anyone else question my decisions they way you do. That chap - James Fielding? - who was convinced I was in mortal danger, for example. I brushed I him off as an odd ball, but who knows what might have happened if you hadn’t overridden me and called Psych down. You were right, of course - but if anyone else had done that, I’d have had their guts for garters.”

Serena shivered. “Still gives me the heebie-jeebies, thinking about that. All those awful sketches he’d made of you - that was definitely a bullet dodged. I don’t know what I’d have done if anything had happened to you.”

Bernie was quick to soothe her. “Well, all’s well that ends well - nothing happened, he got the care he needed, and I still owe you one.”

“Not after this you don’t! Who knows - you might even have saved my life by taking me in last night. Look at it - it’s perishing out there!”

They looked out at the beautiful but bleak scene outside, the snow even higher now, obscuring the bottom of the window.

“It’s probably not so bad on the lee of the cottage,” Bernie said, “but still - I don’t fancy going out there in a hurry. Unless you think you ought to try and get in touch with Elinor again? Do you want me to try and get up the hill again?”

“Absolutely not! I’m not having either of us risk our necks. I told her in the message you sent last night to keep an eye on the weather forecast, and she should have the sense to know I wouldn’t have risked travelling today.”

From what Bernie had heard of Elinor, she rather doubted that she had any sense at all, but she was relieved at not having to venture out into the blizzard.

“Well then,” she said, “It’s a case of read, eat, sleep, repeat until the roads clear, then. I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit dull for you. Though come to think of it, if you’ve got a laptop or something we could watch a film - there’s WiFi, though I haven’t bothered connecting to it.”

“Goodness, you really were going for the whole Hermit of Holby vibe, weren’t you? I have to say, I’m getting quite into my book - isn’t it a luxury! But perhaps we could watch a film later - something nice and cosy, hmm?”

Cosy was the order of the day, and with the log burner re-stoked, they settled down again to read. Before long, though, Serena heard a soft, purring snore, barely more than heavy breathing, and she realised that Bernie had dozed off. Perhaps she hadn’t slept as well as she had claimed last night - an unexpected bedfellow couldn’t have been an easy adjustment to make when she had come out here to be alone, after all. She took the opportunity to gaze at Bernie anew. It wasn’t the first time they had shared each other’s company outside of work, but never in such an intimate way as this. Evenings at Albie’s and the odd dinner here and there had nothing on this cosiness, the comfort of simply existing together. Bernie seemed so unguarded like this, so much more relaxed and at ease, and Serena felt a pang of something like tenderness clutch at her heart.

What a very lovely woman Bernie was. She was fond of her - had been for a long time now - and of course, Serena had eyes in her head, she knew that Bernie was attractive. But she had felt something shift in this unfamiliar setting. That funny little catch she had felt when the door had opened to her the evening before, the sense of inevitability that it should be Bernie who came to her rescue, and the unlooked for luxury and comfort of finding herself wrapped around her this morning. That had certainly been new. She was glad that they had brought it out into the open: she had felt funny about it, as though it were somehow a furtive secret she had been hiding. But Bernie hadn’t seemed to mind - which was lucky, given that it looked as though she would be staying here for at least another night or two.

***

After dinner, the daylight already long gone under the heavy snow clouds, Serena managed to connect her laptop to the WiFi and they chose a film - something soft and seasonal and not remotely demanding. She popped upstairs and brought down an expensive looking box of chocolates that had been intended for the family she had expected to be staying with - “shame to let them go to waste,” she said with a wink. They sat together on the little sofa where they could both see the screen, and although the log burner warmed the room beautifully, the wind made such a dismal sound around the eaves that they gravitated towards one another as though huddling for warmth under the soft blanket they shared. Bernie had opened one of the bottles Serena had brought in from the car the evening before, and before long, the warmth, the wine and the cosiness of the moment had their inevitable effect, and neither of them could be sure afterwards who had dropped off to sleep first.

The screen had long since faded to black, and it was a log popping in the burner that woke them: first Bernie, then, as she stretched, Serena blinked her eyes open to find that she had cuddled into Bernie’s side again. This time there was no hasty panic, no tension, and she even nestled a little closer, her arm across Bernie’s midriff.

“This is nice,” she mumbled contentedly, and she felt as much as heard Bernie’s rumble of agreement. “You don’t mind?” she asked, to be sure, tilting her face upwards to see Bernie smiling softly down at her, her eyes still blurry.

“Why on earth should I mind waking up with you in my arms,” Bernie said sleepily, and before she could think what she was doing, she dipped her head and dropped a soft kiss on Serena’s lips. Everything was slow and dreamlike, and Serena didn’t second guess her reaction to the kiss, allowing herself f to explore this wonderful new sensation without thought or restraint.

It was less a kiss of passion than of homecoming, an inevitable development of their friendship and of this quirk of fate that had led her to Bernie through the snowstorm. She lifted a hand to Bernie’s cheek and stroked her thumb across the soft, soft skin, allowed her fingers to catch in the curls of blonde hair that tumbled down over her brow. She hummed into the kiss, and felt Bernie smile against her mouth, and they broke apart a hair’s breadth with a soft laugh.

“I think I’d like to wake up like that more often, if it’s alright with you,” Serena said quietly, her smile coming from somewhere deep, deep inside her.

“I’d like that too,” Bernie replied, “though I wasn’t expecting it at all.” There was wonder in her voice, disbelief, perhaps, and Serena shook her head ever so slightly.

“Neither was I - though I think we might have seen it coming if we’d looked hard enough - but let’s not overthink it, hey?” She leaned back in, and they kissed again, slow and sure and comfortable, as though they had been lovers for a long time. Away from the complications of work and family, there was just the two of them, and the pull that would no longer be ignored or denied.

***

Outside, the snow still fell, and the wind whistled down the valley, whining at the door to be let in. But the little house was as sound as the rock it stood on, and the wind howled in defeat, surging onward along the valley, leaving behind the cottage with its warm fire, its softly glowing windows, and two friends who had found each other in the stillness at the heart of the storm.


End file.
